and sit in front of the fire

Hufflepuffs Studying Habits.

IN CLASS:

Exchanging notes with your friends constantly and still being able to keep up with class notes. Doodling all over your book as well as your friends. Giggling at little inside jokes then being told off when the teacher catches you. Tickling your friends relentlessly with the feathers you are suppose to be levitating. Staring off into space, thinking about a warm bed and your cat. Sneaking food into the class room and sneaking a bite every time the teacher looks away. Occasionally throwing small scrunches of parchment across the room at fellow Hufflepuffs. Eventually paying full attention to your work and explaining things to your friends that don’t quite understand yet, and trying to help them even when you don’t quite understand yet.

OUTSIDE CLASS:

Making a blanket fort in front of the fire first so you and your friends can study in your own “palace”. Your cat sitting on your lap purring while you write, occasionally tapping at your paper or pen. Getting distracted by your cat and dragging the feather end of your quill across the ground so your cat can chase it. Making a cup of tea for yourself, then having to make five more a second later cause all your friends want one too. Scrunching up your fail essays and throwing them across the room. Watching your cat chase after them and rip them to shreds. Procrastinating too much. Eventually having to take down your blanket fort and going to bed. Sitting on your bed studying half the night without realising the time. Falling asleep at one in the morning, somehow under the covers, but littered in paper.

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my new house has a wood-burning furnace which is great not only because it’s wonderful to sit in front of a fire while snow piles up two feet deep outside

but also bc it means I don’t have to take responsibility for my farts in any meaningful way

Charging/Activating Sigils

Originally posted by mistyawe

(Copied from my grimoire)

  • Place on paper, burn it
  • Draw on bread, toast it
  • Trace with crystals
  • Use your own energy (touch, breath, proximity)
  • Sew on clothing, wash them
  • Place in front of music speakers
  • Let it sit in a sunny place
  • Bury in the earth*
  • Use prayer
  • Dissolve in water/hold under running water
  • Set as phone lock screen, charge phone
  • Tape to window on full moon
  • Meditate
  • Hold near fire
  • Throw into wind*
  • Add a drop of blood*
  • Carve into candle, let it melt
  • Draw with honey at the bottom of a mug, activate with hot drink
  • Draw on flag, leave in wind
  • Trace in dust, blow it away
  • Use crystal grid
  • Draw with cooking oil, cook
  • Draw on foggy windows/mirrors
  • Trace using water, let it evaporate
  • Carve in soap, wash body
  • Utilize storm energy
  • Use light
  • Draw on beach, let the ocean take it
  • Use charging board
  • Draw on rock, throw it in a river*
  • Carve into wax, melt it (for wax melters)
  • Draw on self, take a shower
  • Use glow-in-the-dark paint
  • Place on shoes, utilize the energy of walking
  • Draw in the air with energy, push through it
  • Take a picture, charge device
  • Hold to your pulse point/s
  • Speak to it
  • And many, many things I did not list here.

*Make sure you are being safe and/or eco-friendly!

more post-curse beauty & the beast headcanons, enjoy! (fluff)
  • adam letting only belle tend to him when he’s sick/injured
  • can we talk about the fact that adam would be so protective over belle like he would never let anything hurt her
  • mrs. potts teaching belle how to make the most lovely teas/hot drinks during the fall & winter
  • belle and adam sitting in front of the fire on cold nights, wrapped in each other’s arms and covered in blankets
    • cuddly adam
    • adam falling asleep as belle plays with his hair
  • the kitchen crew teaching adam how to make the grey stuff
    • adam making desserts for belle using the grey stuff once he’s mastered how to make it
  • adam: *is looking at himself in the mirror* “i’m so glad i don’t have that stupid tail anymore”
  • belle watching adoringly as adam befriends phillipe in the castle stables
  • adam: *does the growlbelle: “don’t use that tone of voice with me”
  • belle and adam laying on the castle garden grounds at night, watching the stars
  • adam picking a single rose from each rose bush to make a beautiful bouquet for belle, just because he can

On February 1st John wakes up to find that Sherlock’s half of the bed is empty, and on his pillow is a single lavender rose.  He smiles softly, picks it up, and presses his nose into the petals.

The following day John finds two of the same flower, their stems cut quite short, waiting for him in his favorite mug when he goes to make tea.  He doesn’t ask Sherlock about it yet, and Sherlock acts as if nothing is different.

On February 3rd there are three lavender roses waiting for John.  One is resting in his left shoe; another is tucked inside his jacket pocket; the third he finds on the doorknob when he’s on his way out.  He puts them on his desk at work and thinks about texting Sherlock for an explanation.  But he doesn’t.  Not yet.

Four roses find their way onto the mantlepiece.

Five are found nestled in John’s chair late in the evening on February 5th.

Six are discovered the following morning, wrapped neatly together with ribbon, in the refrigerator.  Still, neither of them say a word.

It isn’t until the 7th of February–when John finds seven lavender roses, cut from their stems, floating in a bowl of water on the kitchen table–that John’s curiosity gets the better of him.  He’s not much for computers, but he knows how to use google at least.  The results make his head feel light.

Eight roses decorate the sitting room in various spots.

Nine are placed into various beakers and tubes.

Ten litter the surface of the sofa all day on February 10th.  They avoid sitting there all day, but neither of them mentions it.

On February 11th there are eleven roses lining the doorframe of Baker Street.

The 12th brings a bouquet to John’s office where he switches them out for the three that have begun to wilt but that he was unwilling to remove.

Thirteen roses hang from the ceiling of their bedroom the following day.  John isn’t quite sure how Sherlock managed that without waking him, but he lays there for almost half an hour, just watching them sway back and forth.

John comes home from work on the 14th of February and finds lavender rose petals scattered up and down the seventeen steps of 221B.  If he had to guess he would say there were enough petals for fourteen roses.  His chest constricts, and he takes the steps slowly, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

He expects to find Sherlock waiting for him, but when he reaches the top he finds the door to the sitting room closed, a note taped to it.  Sherlock’s untidy scrawl reads, You know where to find me.

And John does.  He’s back down the stairs and out the door in seconds, and for once it seems he’s got Sherlock’s luck on his side as a taxi rolls to a stop when he flings out his hand.

The lab at St. Bart’s hasn’t changed much since the day they met, and it’s a bit like walking into the past when John pushes the door open to find Sherlock waiting for him in the same exact spot he had been when John had first seen him.  Only this time John isn’t limping.  And this time Sherlock is holding a single lavender rose instead of a pipette, and his gaze is soft and warm as it settles on John.

“Knew you’d get it,” he says, his eyes crinkling with his smile.

John walks toward him, taking his time even though his heart is pounding.  It’s ridiculous, he thinks, because they’ve been together for months now.  “I’m smarter than I look,” he says, unable to keep from smiling in return.  He stops about a foot away, nodding toward the rose in Sherlock’s hand.  “Isn’t that cheating?”

Sherlock shakes his head.  “You see, but you do not observe,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes.  He steps closer, holding the flower up between them.  “There were only thirteen on the steps.  This is number fourteen.”

John steps closer and reaches out to touch the petals, letting his hand slip down until his fingers ghost over Sherlock’s.  “I looked it up, you know. Lavender rose.”

“I know,” Sherlock says, his smile widening.  “On the seventh.  I was surprised you held out for so long.”

John can’t help laughing.  “I’m not even going to ask how you knew.”  

He plucks the rose from Sherlock’s fingers and sets it gingerly on the counter beside them, removing the delicate barrier between them so that he can step into Sherlock’s space and draw him down for a soft, slow kiss.  Sherlock’s hands cup his face, his thumbs stroking along the sharp edges of his jaw, and John clings to fistfuls of Sherlock’s shirt at his waist.

When he pulls away it’s only enough so that he can speak, and his lips brush Sherlock’s with every word.  “Love at first sight,” he whispers, and he frees one hand to touch the petals of the lavender rose beside them.  “And you always said I was the romantic.”

Sherlock kisses him again, lingering for a long, sweet moment.  “I thought you should know the truth.  The whole of it.  How long I’ve loved you.”

Something in John’s chest aches, and he spends long, drawn-out moments pressing his lips to Sherlock’s, murmuring his I love yous into his mouth, hoping that it will be enough, that Sherlock will understand that he’s been loved since the moment John saw him in this very lab so many years ago.


Later that night–after Sherlock has led them home, after John has pressed him against the sheets, after countless kisses and touches and soft, pleading words–later, they sit together in front of the fire, half-clothed, legs tangled together, and press the single lavender rose in between the pages of a heavy book.  And when they’ve finished, John takes Sherlock by the hand and leads him back to bed.

Not Today MV Theory

I think the concept/story in Not Today is rather easy but I’ll show you step by step what I think what happened.

The MV starts with shots of a mountain and BTS and black dressed people running on a road uphill

They want to reach the top so they’re running and rushing.

But suddenly we see Jungkook’s eye and a reflection of himself standing alone between his fallen friends.

I’ll later tell you who shot them. But for now we see a flash back: Jungkook running in front and suddenly Taehyung and Jin get shot right behind him. Jk is shocked.

But the flashback gets cut off by the writing “Not Today” and fire bruns on the screen. This tells us that this sad event won’t happen today, they’ll prevent it.

Now they tell us the story, their story. It starts of in a big building. The camera zooms in on the ground floor, indicating that they started fro the bottom.

Namjoon walks to a group go black dressed people. But he opens his arms welcomingly, they are his friends. The people are sitting on the floor, obedient, looking down. But not Namjoon. He’s dressed more colourful and standing. He tells them to fight (Today we fight!) and that is when they stand up and join him.This is also when the fire from the beginning is there again, representing their power, strength, will. The don’t want to be obedient and live in hiding. That is when the other members join too, helping Namjoon.

And because of their hard work and their power the room starts to break, they came one step closer to their dreams. they want to get higher.

The scene transitions to Jungkook who came to the roof of the building. But he’s alone. He was faster and stronger than the others (like we see in the running scenes later). The members join him shortly after, but he looked lost for a moment, all alone on this big rooftop. The other people are now throwing away their jackets. They are breaking free, ready to fight, letting the old behind them. becoming a little more like their leaders BTS.

But the other members are struggling more than jungkook that’s why Namjoon is next seen still inside the building but with more light than before. It shows that he needed more time than Jungkook.

Next we see a shot of the sky and them running uphill again. They want to reach the sky, they want to fly, they want higher. They broke out of the building and now out in the world looking for a way to achieve their dreams. Everyone is trying really hard but they aren’t all running at the same speed, Jungkook is in the front, once again seemingly progressing faster than the others.

But they are dancing on ice. this means two things: 1. it’s not spring yet, it is still hard and cold it’s still winter, they still have to fight. 2. It is easy to trip and fall if you go too hard or too fast. It’s risky. But it is their path up to the sky (that’s why it is reflecting the sky)

But the problem was that they were running next to each other not with each other. Everyone was going on their own, everyone was using their own strength only focusing on surviving and achieving their dreams, not looking out for the others. So they were easy to attack. So when every single member started facing hardships (got shot) and fell, that was the first time Jungkook was looking at them, but it was too late. They were already on the ground. Even their other friends. They didn’t get chased by them, they were running together.

This is were the actual flashback ends, so we see his eye again.

But this is what will not happen, at least not today! This is what BTS will prevent from happening. So now the scenery switches. Instead of snow and lighter colors, now it’s night. Dark colors and sparks are symbolising their fighting spirit.

And yes they are still running but now they are in a formation, looking out for each other, acting as a teams.

So in the end when the last shot comes, they stand together tightly and no one falls. Together they are bulletproof!

It ends with the fire once again, symbolising that this is what will happen, what they will make happen, what they are capable of. You never walk alone! That’s their message! We’ll all fight together, not just side by side but in a team, our ARMY.


I hope you liked it because I’m really sure that this is true or at least most of it. What do you think?

Having a child with Newt would include…

- Even though he would make sure that you and your child are always safe, you would usually accompany him when he’d go somewhere

- Him telling your child about all his adventures and how he is one of the very few people who actually saw some of the most rarely seen creatures

- Him usually modifying the bedtime story a bit

- “… And so the prince did not kill the dragon because he realized they are very misunderstood creatures who mean no harm and need to be protected”

- Niffler loving to be around your little one, sometimes even giving some of his own treasures to them to play with for a while

- Pickett actually kind of abandoning Newt because he would simply refuse to leave your child’s side

- Aunty Queenie and uncle Jacob visiting on weekends, bringing all kinds of sweet pastries for the coffee

- Queenie and you going shopping for clothes for your child together

- You sometimes coming home to Newt and your little one deeply asleep, surrounded by drawings of all the creatures they’ll see together at some point

- The three of you sitting in front of the fire place on cozy evenings, cuddled together under a pile of pillows and blankets

- No matter what, your little family would always come first for all of you, because regardless of what would happen, you knew that you could always be sure to come home to the people who love you the most

No One’s Roasted Like Gaston.[Oneshot].

no one writes FANFICS LIKE EMILEE.

Originally posted by luuuuuke-evans

Title: No One’s Roasted Like Gaston.
Pairing: Implied!- Gaston x Reader.
Rating: T.
Words: 2,231.
Summary: Gaston thought he was undeniable to women and even some men. Has he finally found his match?


There was nothing particularly notable about the early mornings, at least, not anymore. The sky above was it usual mixture of pinks, purples and some lighter hues of blue as the sun rose and lit up the clouds, giving them a rather unique looking glow. There was a small wind, but not chilling, and brought in the lingering scent of meadows and trees. You got used to those aspects and they slowly became the norm. You began to not notice them at all, and remarked them as being every day life. If one wanted to really shake things up in a morning routine, they would count the cobblestones that made up each walkway in the village. But, that’s the thing. No one ever wanted to shake things up. They wanted things to stay the same for that is the way they had been living for as long as anyone could remember. With change came the unprecedented fear that something terrible would happen as a result.

It was the hustle and bustle of such a small village did leave one breathless and forgetful on occasion if you didn’t pay attention to where you were going and why you were going there in the first place. If one was aimlessly walking in the morning time while the sun peaked into the valley, one might be trampled by those selling goods and merchandise. Some too expensive, and some not expensive enough and left you wondering whether you had been scammed or if you had gotten a good deal.

Aimless and mindless were surely your vibe this beautiful morning. You had nowhere to be, nothing to do or see and so you actually took your time to walk through the village during one of the busiest times of day. There was a variant of smells, some of which you happened to thoroughly enjoy. Fresh bread, springtime air, a small caddy on the corner before the village square that was selling freshly picked roses. Contrary to the flowers smelling divine, the actual vibrancy of the colors caught your attention and dwindled you to stay and admire them for longer than you had intended . Vivid reds, pastel pinks, yellow whites. It looked as if these flowers belonged immortalized in a painting for the entire world to enjoy.

Smiling at the vendor who was a few feet to your right, you plucked a light, dusty pink rose out of one of the buckets full of water. It dripped down your fingers onto your wrist causing a small shudder to shoot down your arm. Miraculously, it looked as if a skilled painter had dipped their brush in the sky during dusk, mustered up enough color to splotch onto the petals of the flower. Some parts were darker than others, but all around, it was a very delicate and soft appearing flower.

“Beautiful.” You could hear someone behind you say. And without the need to turn around and see the speaker, you were already well aware of who it was. Probably looking at himself in the reflection of a window again, you snickered quietly. It was as if you could see the bright red uniform from your peripheral vision and it was already giving you a headache. Setting the flower back into the metallic bucket, you gave the vendor one more glance over and polite smile before drawing your attention to your left, with the unsuccessful hope of getting out of there without Gaston being connected at your hip.

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All the cool fights I plan end up like this.

Our Siren has commanded the enemies to fight each other, our fire nymph has set the battle field on fire and just killed a man, one of the mages is levitating the enemy boss (almost dead) above the battle.

Nymph: Can I use my second action to leap at this other man?

Me (DM): Yeah sure why not *nymph rolls super well* Okay so you are basically face sitting on him.

enemy turn: *a duel dagger enemy stabs his sat on comrade in the stomach twice with both his daggers, everything is still on fire*

Nymph: Can I use my next attack on this shield and sword guy in front of me?

Me:  Are you getting up first?  You’re still sitting on a man’s face, who’s guts are spilling out by the way.

Nymph: No

Me: Are you stabbing him in the DICK?!

Nymph *cracking up*: YES! *everyone else cracks up*

He killed the shield man

What Exo is probably doing rn

Xiumin: Got put on hold after he called the local pet shop to see if they had bunnies for sale 3 hours, ago and is afraid to hang up just in case they come back to the phone. 

Suho: Repeating a knock knock joke he overheard a toddler tell his mommy at the grocery store over and over in his head so he can tell the first member he sees later. 

Yixing: Just finished signing papers with SM to release 3 videos, 2 mini albums and get a solo dance in the next comeback song…..all while in China.

Baekhyun: Standing in front of the refrigerator holding it open, trying to decide between a protein whey extra lite smoothie or 3 gallons of rocky road ice cream.

Chen: Sitting at the dining room table googling himself on Baekhyun’s Ipad so that his searches for “Chen’s Sexiest Moments” won’t stay in his own search history.

Chanyeol: Playing videos games in the dark with door locked even though he told everyone he was going to be in the studio writing more fire verses for Sehun to drop on the beat.

Kyungsoo: Reading scripts about a psycho maniac killer and wondering how he always gets offered such relatable roles.

Kai: Trying to calculate how long a break from group activities he’ll get this year if he breaks both his ankles now.

Sehun: In the bathroom with the door closed practicing how to take selfies that show he actually has a jawline. Ended up deleting 3 apps to make space for all the bad shots.

anonymous asked:

hi! do you think you could maybe possible perhaps write a soulmate!au? pretty pretty please?? (if you do - thanks, and if you don't - thanks for all of your other fics)

i heard you were looking like the moon

a/n: i decided to go with the ‘you don’t see colour until your soulmate touches you’ au. thank you so much for this anon, and i hope you enjoy it

She’s seven when she decides that the colour she’s most excited to see is purple. She’s watching a documentary with Petunia, sprawled on the carpet in their mediocre, three-bedroom house, watching the TV, enthralled. There are a pair of pretty people, holding hands, gravitational, lovely, and utterly in love. They are describing colour with a glistening film swept across their eyes, tainted by disdain, this supercilious disposition that colour is some kind of buried treasure, open only to those who are a part of some exclusive club where partners and couples clutch at each others’ hands like an anchor dropped in a bed of sand. The delight of love in someone else. It makes her heart race. But it is not this that upsets her. It is Ethel, the near 70-year-old lady on the screen, who lost her husband. She had spent 50 years with colour. And then it was lost.

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Date in a Box

Words: 9.7k
Genre: Fluff. So much fluff. 

Read more at Service Series

Originally posted by jnjk-pkjm

He called and you came running.

Knock Knock.

The door swings open; a boy dressed in a white shirt, blue jeans and timberlands greets you with frightened doe-eyes. “Are you-”

“Yes I am.” You push your way in, not having enough time to slip off your shoes politely. You take one quick scan of his apartment. “How much time do we have?”

“She’s coming in five minutes.” He says in alarm, scrambling to look at the clock.

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The Simplest of Plans

So here it is, my first attempt at a whump/sickfic/langst story.  

I would love to get feedback on if I have done the genre justice and where I should improve my writing.

DISCLAIMER: Graphic injury descriptions and explicit language are both used in this story so reader discretion is advised.

—————————–

Lance groaned as he cracked his eyes open just a little, as he tried to see where he was he realised that he was slumped over the control panel inside Blue.  He winced as he tried to move his body, a sharp pain racing up his body from every direction, he could feel everything so that was a good sign, right?  

Raising his head he looked out through the window in front of him and he realised that he had crashed in Blue as he saw that he was in a large crater with small fires burning all around him.  He croaked out a pained noise, hoping to call out to his team when he realised that his helmet had been knocked loose in the crash and was sitting on the ground a few feet away.  He needed to get in contact with the others, he had to let them know that Blue had no power and couldn’t fight.

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Context: After the party finally gets their crap together, they head into a dungeon, sending their halfling thief out first to investigate an apparent guard room up ahead. Inside he finds a trio of bug bears sitting in front of a fire.
Thief: Bug bears? Oh that sounds cute! Can I pet one?
DM: …sure, I guess.
Thief: Oh AWESOME! I go to the nearest one and pet it then!
DM: It turns around, offering you a skewer of meat. After a small pause, it stabs you.
Thief: wait what?
DM: You seem to narrowly dodge at the last moment. What do you do?
Thief: I leave the room and run to the rest of the party for help.
Fighter: Hm? Does anyone else hear that?
Cleric, just waking up: Hell? What, are we going to try to summon Satan again?
Druid: What?
Thief: BEEAAARS HELP
Cleric: What’s he saying?
Thief: H E L P
Cleric: Hull? What? Does he want us to fix a boat or something?
The rest of the party leaves the caves for a moment to look for a boat that needs repaired. At this time the thief manages to catch up, bringing the Bugbears with him.
Cleric: Oh! “Help!” I get it now!
As the fight begins, the Druid rolls to hit one of the monsters with her flail, but critically fails.
DM: Roll to hit the thief.
Thief: Wait, WHAT WHY ME
Druid: *rolls a nat 1 again*
DM: uh-
Thief: ROLL TO HIT THE FIGHTER
DM: Sure. Roll to hit, I guess.
Druid: *Rolls a three*

Young God

Jughead x Reader

It’s approaching the last night that the drive through is open, so you and your boyfriend Jughead try to make the best of it. Based off the requested song: Young God by Halsey

Warnings: emotions, kissing, and more emotions

Word Count: 2,027

A/N: I think this is angst? I tried my hardest to get the feel right! AHHH I hope you guys like it. I hope it’s okay


he says “oh baby girl, you know we’re gonna be legends

i’m the king and you’re the queen and we will stumble through heaven.”

The drive-in was Jughead’s favorite place to be besides next to you. It was a bit weird to call him your boyfriend, since you had only been best friends since kindergarten. You were there for Jug over the summer when no one else was, and your feelings that had been right under the surface came to light with late night talks, walking to and from Pop’s and of course, movie nights. It only took about half way through the summer for him to confess that he also had a crush on you, for nearly just as long. Half way through the summer is also when the town got flipped upside down at the announcement of Jason Blossom’s death and the news that the drive-in was going to be shut down. You stood by your boyfriend through all of it, and even supported him when he told you he wanted to start writing a novel about it. Not soon after, you told him you loved him. Only problem was, he hadn’t said those words back.

It was the day before the drive-in was supposed to close, and some of your friends were sitting around a table outside trying to decide what movie was going to be played. It had to be a good one, after all.

“What about Mean Girls?” Kevin suggests, sitting across from you, next to Betty and Veronica. You all stare at him for a moment, thinking it over.

“It is a cult classic.” Betty jumps in to defend his suggestion.

“No way is the last night in the drive-in going to be Mean Girls.” Jughead protests, his eyebrow furrowing as you lean in closer to him. He puts an arm around your waist out of sight from your other friends.

“What about Rebel Without A Cause?” you ask, looking up at him. It was the first movie you ever saw together as a couple, and you knew it was one of his favorites.

He smiles, giving your side a light squeeze, “That sounds perfect.”

“Of course he chooses your pick, you’re the queen of his universe.” Kevin chimes in, clearly annoyed that his pick wasn’t chosen. You guys also weren’t hiding the fact that you were in a relationship anymore. Things were too different when you got back to school, and your friends almost immediately noticed something was up. It only took them a week to get the details out from you.

“And he’s my king.” You smile, chuckling along with your friends.

Kevin made a gagging sound which furthered the laughter. It felt good to laugh like this with your friends, with Jughead. Jug had been so focused lately on trying to keep thing running and also his novel, you barely saw him smile anymore. It was always a good day when you could see him happy.

As the laughter dies down I can tell that Jug has something to say, because whenever he does, he bites his lip and his eyes can’t seem to focus.

“Will you all be there?” Jug asks, looking at all of them expectantly. You knew that this meant the world to him, and it would secretly break his heart if your other friends didn’t come.

“Of course, we wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Betty tells him, looking at Veronica afterwards. Ronnie just smiled and flipped her black hair over her shoulder.

“You heard what my girlfriend said, we’ll be there.” She smirks, nudging Betty on the shoulder. You were so wrapped up in your summer with Jughead you had almost forgotten that not soon after Veronica moved here, she asked out Betty. They had been nearly inseparable since.

Everyone then looked to Kevin, who put his hands up in surrender, “It’s not Mean Girls, but I’ll be there.”

That left Archie, who had decided not to join you today. You didn’t know if they had made up at all, but there was a point in the summer where you weren’t even allowed to say his name without receiving the silent treatment from Jughead. You and Betty passed silent words with each other as you gave her a look. She knew that Archie had to be  there, so she would do what she could to make him.

You felt Jug sigh in relief that everyone he cared about would be there. He wanted the last night to go well, and if he wanted it so did you.

Soon Betty and Ronnie and Kevin got up to leave, they had some English project they had to do, leaving you and Jughead alone.

You could tell he was a bit on edge, so you took his face in your hands and made him look at you, smiling softly at the way his hair curled just the right amount coming out of his beanie.

“It will be okay, I promise.” you say, placing a small kiss on his lips. You only could hope that your words remained true.

But do you feel like a young god?

You know the two of us are just young gods

“Why do you write?” you ask later that night, curled up with him on your bed. You fit together perfectly, your head on his chest and his hand playing with strands of your hair as you just enjoy being near each other. This has become a near nightly occurrence, him staying over at your house. He was welcome any time, as you knew what was going on with  his dad, but you still wonder if something else isn’t going on.

“It releases stress,” he says, taking pauses to think about what he says next, “it’s a surreal feeling when you’re the one in control… like you’re the only one in the universe who can write something the right way, and so you do.” he explains, staring at the ceiling.

You nod your head against his chest, trying to understand his brain. You had been best friends for so long, but he still hid parts of himself away from you. He had parts to himself that were for his eyes only.

You sit up slightly, looking at him with admiration. “Are you okay?” You ask.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” he responds, joining you in sitting up. He rests his head on your shoulder, your back to his chest. He slowly begins placing small kisses on your neck, trailing up and down and back again. You tilt your head to the side to allow him more access.

“No reason, just wondering.” you lie. You know why you asked. You asked because you can tell that something is bothering him, something that he hasn’t told you. This is different from other things he hasn’t said. You know that there’s a portion of himself that he doesn’t like to share, but this is something different. He’s become distracted, preoccupied with something else entirely. He was more upset about the drive-in closing than he was letting on, and you wanted to know why.

“You’re thinking too much.” he says, a smile forming against your neck.

You turn to face him and press your lips to his, stopping him from speaking another word. He deepens the kiss, cupping the side of your face as his other hand slips under your shirt. Your breath hitches at his touch on the small of your back, his cold fingers tracing circles, driving you mad.

Your hand slips under his shirt, feeling his chest, committing to memory all the divots and crevices of his body. This boy was beautiful, and he was all yours. You pull his shirt off over his head, breaking your lips for him only to go back to your neck.

“Kevin was right.” he whispered.

You smile, “And you say I think too much?” you let out a small laugh, opening up your neck as he continues down your chest.

“You’re my queen.” he says.

He says, “Oh, baby girl, don’t get cut on my edges

I’m the king of everything and oh, my tongue is a weapon”

The drive-in was packed, cars lined up in neat rows, people in blankets. You and Jughead were near the back, a blanket laid out in the back of the truck your dad let you borrow for the night.

“It’s just about time.” you say, looking over him as you finish setting out the popcorn and drinks to the side. You hop in the truck and pat the space next to you for him to join you, “Everyone is here, even Archie.” you continue, gesturing to the cars and blankets next to you, your friends chatting about nothing.

Jughead looks nervous, his hands fiddling with each other, his leg shaking as he looks out over the crowd. He turns around and heads back to the building that plays the movie.

You follow close behind him, nearly chasing after him to see what’s going on. He enters through the back door and slams it shut. You hesitate to knock, unsure if he would let you in. You try the doorknob and it’s open, so you try to silently open the door. What you see stuns you as you let the door close.

There’s a small mattress in the middle of the room,  shirts and shorts thrown everywhere. There are posters over some of the walls and a small mirror hanging on the back of the room.

The projector sits neatly at the front, the only part of this room that is actually supposed to be there.

“Jug, what is all this?” you manage to get out. He looks up from his work at the projector, his eyes growing wide. He bites his lip, and then you know that this is what he had been keeping from you.

“(Y/N)! You’re not supposed to be here.” he says, frantically coming around to meet you. He tries to push you out but you stand your ground.

“Shit I’m not, have you been living here?” you demand, looking at him with fire in your eyes.

His body slumps, his eyes fall. “Yes.” he gives in, not daring to meet your gaze.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” your voice softens, stepping closer to him. Your heart broke for your boyfriend, upset that he hadn’t come to you about this sooner.

“Because…” he says, trailing off, his leg beginning to bounce again, his hands pulling at the edges of his beanie, bringing it down further over his head.

“Because?” you push, taking his hands in yours, making him look in your eyes. You just wanted him to be honest with you for once, you wanted to see the parts that he’s hidden.

“Because,, (Y/N).” he says, “Because I didn’t want you to think less of me. I didn’t want you to leave.”

He looks at you with sadness in his eyes. He was about to open his mouth to say something else, but you stopped him with a kiss.

Your hands go to cup either side of his face, his hands hesitant at first, still afraid. You deepen the kiss and he finally wraps you in his embrace. This is the moment you had been waiting for since the end of the summer, the moment when he would tell you, when he would finally open up. You didn’t imagine it exactly like this, but it was perfect, in your own little way.

“Jughead Jones the third,” you whisper against his lips, “I am not going anywhere.” You say making him believe it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” he whispers in return.

“Don’t be, just no more secrets, okay?” you ask, pressing your forehead to his, looking in his eyes.

“Okay.” he says, and then suddenly pulls you down to the makeshift mattress, you falling next to him. He was on top of you, placing light kisses down your neck as  the movie began to roll in the background, “there is one more thing I haven’t told you yet.”

“And what would that be?” you smile.

“I love you, (Y/N).”


Tags: @always-chocolate

Imagine your OTP- Things I've said to my SO
  • "Why the fuck are there three different rolls of paper towels??"
  • "Do we need lessons on how ziplock bags work?"
  • "Taking off my clothes takes effort. I'm sleeping on the futon."
  • "At what point if any did it cross your mind that this might be a bad idea?"
  • "TECHNOLOGY HATES ME OH MY GOD I KILLED THE MICROWAVE."
  • "Wake me up if you want something!! Seriously! Sleepy sex is awesome!"
  • "Please kill it. Preferably with fire."
  • "See, this is why we're together. No one else could handle our terrible puns."
  • "YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO STAB YOURSELF OPENING YOUR ANNIVERSARY GIFT GO TO THE HOSPITAL."
  • "I love you. but I swear to you if you keep leaving lunch containers in the sink without putting soapy water in them I will kill you slowly."
  • "Dude, we're old... your brother just left with a 24-pack of bud ready to party, and we're sitting in front of the TV with Netflix and fancy cheese."
  • "These potatoes in the fridge are starting to flower... can I toss them?"
  • "Sleep is for those that haven't been struck with inspiration."
  • "I'll sleep when I'm dead."
  • "Sweetie, I appreciate the thought, but I meant A 50c PACKAGE of reeses, I didn't need the whole candy aisle."
  • "Goddamn it why are you so sweet."
  • "I just got out from babysitting and I am having my tubes tied immediately."
  • "I AM NOT CUTE GODDAMN IT I AM INTIMIDATING."
  • "Let me rephrase, I'm getting mongolian. if you'd like, you can come along, but if not, that's cool too. but I want mongolian."
  • "You bought WHAT for HOW MUCH?"
  • "I love your mother, but I almost reached across the table and wrapped my hands around her throat."
  • "Why do we even NEED more bass?"
  • "SCIENCE MOTHERFUCKER"
  • "You may want to hide the alcohol because I may die from how much and how badly I want to drink right now."
  • "Aaaack that freaks me out when you do that!!"
  • "Everything hurts and I'm dying, but I'm not pregnant this month so that's nice."
  • "STOP TICKLING ME YOU ASSHOLE I WILL NIPPLE PINCH YOU"

anonymous asked:

Any chance of a few good modern au fic recs for this piece of enjoltaire trash?

oh I’m sure I could think of a few… *winks with both eyes at the same time*
(also, here’s a list I made from a while back of some good e/R fics!)

Still the One by kjack89

Enjolras and Grantaire’s 50th wedding anniversary.

I don’t want to give it away, so I’m just going to say you should read it. Seriously

Word Count: 3,438

Oblivious by kjack89

The trouble with approaching your relationship the same way you approached your at-times contentious friendship is that apparently, no one realizes you’re actually dating. Or else Enjolras and Grantaire just have the absolute most oblivious of friends.

Or both.

I’m so used to the “everyone except Enjolras and Grantaire knows they like each other” trope, so this one was really fun to read!

Word Count: 4,567

flightless bird by sarahyyy

Combeferre grins. “How long did you wait before you called me?”

There is a short pause. “Two minutes?” Grantaire says, and Combeferre can’t help but to huff out a laugh. “He said three hours!” Grantaire says defensively.

“He’s fine,” Combeferre says, shaking his head in amusement. “He’ll call. He always calls.”

Damn….it’s the slight ambiguity at the end that gets me… (not to be read if you’re in the mood for fluff!! You might cry!!)

Word Count: 1,883

Years Since It’s Been Clear by lady_ragnell

Grantaire really doesn’t expect Enjolras to force him to move in with him when he hears how shitty Grantaire’s apartment is. And he definitely doesn’t expect Enjolras to want him to stay, or how easy it turns out to be, or the way Enjolras has a habit of doing his studying in the sunshine on the living room floor …

Yeah, he may be in some trouble.

Everything. Everything about this. SO GOOD (ps there’s some smut at the very end, just in case you’re not into that)

Word Count: 10,726

Of Roommates And Hallways by madlyie 

Prompt: “we both got kicked out of our rooms because our roommates are having sex so now we’re standing in the hallway avoiding each other” au

Enjolras learns that the guy from apartment No. 27 is much more talkative than a closed door.

Ok this is super frickin cute and the ending is just perfect. 11/10

Word Count: 1,376

I’ll be your Shelter, I’ll be your Storm by missandrogyny

Just pay me back with one thousand kisses.

Fluff! So much fluff! Good things and happy thoughts!

Word Count: 5,532

One Hundred Ways to Say “I Love You” by the_sky_is_forever

In which Grantaire and Enjolras take a very long time to actually say those three special words, but if you pay attention, the words are there.

Love love love love love. I felt super content (in an “I’m wrapped up in a warm blanket sitting in front of a fire on a cold winter’s day” way) after reading this and honestly that’s one of the best feelings to have after reading a fic (for me personally)

Word Count: 16,484

nothing alike by nightswatch

Enjolras comes across a guy who’s trying to steal his car. Except that he’s not actually stealing his car.

The second hand embarrassment is real (I may or may not have buried my face in a blanket while reading this)

Word Count: 2,023

We’re All Stories, In The End by theglitterati

Les Amis discover fanfiction. About themselves.

I had to put this one on here just for fun because I was cackling when I read it

Word Count: 2,210

Ice Ice Baby by sigh_no_more

In the almost four years that Enjolras had known his friends, he always managed to avoid ice skating with them. This was very purposeful. It had to be. After all, they lived in the Northeast, so plenty of opportunities arose for him to go ice skating. He just never took advantage of them. Because Enjolras had a secret. A dark, terrible secret.

Given how nosy and internet savvy his friends were, it was kind of a miracle that only Combeferre and Courfeyrac knew about his past.

But it was time.

(Or the Amis go ice-skating and find out a surprising truth about Enjolras.)

Ok I had to include this one on here too because when I was rereading it just now, it kinda reminded me of Yuri on Ice and that made me happy sooo :)

Word Count: 2,945

What This Family Does

My own fix-it fic - written before 6x17, but I didn’t publish it before. Slightly canon divergent, but not much… Killian comes back from Neverland, and Snowing are awake already. I felt Killian deserved a little more than just being forgiven.

title: What This Family Does

summary: Killian comes back from Neverland, and some things should not be swept under the rug.

rating: a very tame T - and F for lots and lots of forgiveness… because that’s what this family does, after all.

also on ff.net and ao3


When he’s finally back in their home, weariness settles into his bones as he sinks on the couch.

Staring into the fire that’s crackling against the crispy cold outside, his mind starts to drift, and he thinks back to the moment he was about to burn the dreamcatcher with his awful memories. Without even noticing, Killian runs his hand over his face and sighs.

David didn’t murder him, not even punch him in the face, on the contrary – he showed what looked like genuine relief, maybe even joy when he finally managed to return to Storybrooke, the bloody Crocodile’s offspring’s curse broken. But he knows there will come the moment – sooner than later, probably – when they’ll have to have a serious talk about the disastrous events that took place all those years ago, in that night he ran his vicious blade through a completely innocent man and destroyed yet another family.  In fact, destroying families and orphaning guiltless children seems to be his specialty.

But… he reminds himself that this is in the past, and he has finally made his peace with the fact that his past doesn’t define him. What does define him are his actions and his choices, the man he is now: the man who managed to defy the darkness of Excalibur, the man who stands up for his loved ones, the man who helps justice to be done, curses to be broken and families and lovers to find each other again. The man he is now – he knows and accepts it, that man deserves love, he deserves trust and he deserves a happy ending. And if he has to work a little harder for that, then he’ll do it. He’ll do whatever it takes to set things right with David, his best friend aside from Emma, and he’ll do what he must to prove himself to her, show her that he does have trust in her and their love. He can only hope that it is enough to make her believe in him again and trust in their relationship enough to make her want to be his wife.

Keep reading

Research

Characters:  Sam x Reader

Summary:  Research leads to more between Sam and reader.  Basically a little plot, a little poetry and some good old fashioned smut.

Word Count:  2313

Warning:  Smut, language.  Sorta rough sex.

As always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated.  Tags are at the bottom.

Research

It’s a Thursday night and you are seated at an enormous table in a public library after hours. And no, you didn’t enter through the front door. The method of entry for you and Sam had been a window around back that Sam had managed to open with his pocket knife. Because that’s how hunters roll.

Sam is seated across from you. Books are stacked all around, piled high. Dean, the lucky bastard, is staking out the apartment where the suspect lives. You, however, drew the short end of the stick and are stuck doing research for the next ten billion hours. At least, that’s what it feels like.  

The upside is that between paragraphs, you can sneak peaks at Sam Winchester. The way his eyebrows draw together as he concentrates, the way his hair falls down to cover his face as he reads, it does things to you. Fucking hell, it doesn’t’ help that he’s wearing his Fed getup. That white button down shirt? Jesus Christ. It makes your cheeks feel hot in a cool room, your stomach does somersaults. He always has this effect on you, he just doesn’t seem to realize it. Which only serves to make him more desirable.

Blowing out the lungful of air that you’ve been holding in, you force yourself to return to the centuries-old text in front of you. It smells comforting, old leather and musty pages. As much as you hate research, you have a fondness for books. Fiction is more your speed. When it comes to research, you’d prefer some wifi and Google. Ancient lore, unfortunately, isn’t usually found with a few keystrokes.  

Okay, time to concentrate. Grabbing another book from the stack to your left, you quickly scan the table of contents. A chapter labeled ‘Kamadeva’ catches your eye. Flipping quickly to the right chapter, you read the text. Hmm, this sounds like it could be useful.

Keep reading

you’re an ambassador of a roman province and have traveled far from home to meet gaius julius caesar to discuss some political problem you wish he will eventually understand. entering a military tent heavily decorated with miniature busts of alexander the great, you find him clothed in an early version of iron man’s suit sitting in lotus position on his chair. he sends a sick fire through his palm obliterating the front door, muttering to himself “bet you didn’t see this coming, gaul”. you look above, mark antony is taped to the ceiling